Things I'll Never Tell You
by 8NobodyKnows8
Summary: STANDARD SPAMANO FLUFF AND SHITE. Review s'il vous plait!


Kay, this is just a quick little something I wrote for my friend (you better fucking appreciate this Korri! Jk, I love you). Anyway, I hope you guys like it, it's my first attempt at a Spamano fic, so please review and tell me how I did. No seriously guys, I'd like to know how I can improve. So without further ado…THIS!

-o-

Lovino rolled over onto his stomach, taking partial care not to jostle the bed too much. Earthy brown eyes trailed over a sleeping form, eyebrows nit firmly together in a frustrated line. He nibbled on a pink lip as he watched Spain inhale deeply, completely carefree in his deep sleep. Then again, he was always carefree, wasn't he?

Dark brown locks had fallen messily over his tanned visage. His mouth hung slightly open, silently letting in air as he dreamt. The Spaniard's built but lean frame rose and fell in a calm, rhythmic pattern, not to be disturbed by any one soul.

Romano took all this in, feeling more and more introverted every second he did so. He longed to touch that smooth skin again, something he had not dared to do since childhood. He wanted to push the hair lightly away from his face so as to get a better look at his gentle features. But he dared not move.

Instead, he chose to look. To stare silently at the things he could not have, gnawing at his lower lip till it threatened to bleed.

A shaking hand broke free from its grip on his arm, betraying every thought and plea as it tenderly brushed the side of Antonio's cheek.

The Italian recoiled quickly. "Fuck…"

-o-

"What is it Lovi? You seem rather sad," Antonio asked brightly, concern lacing his words.

"What's it to you, bastard?" Romano replied, angstily. The two stood in the Spaniard's lavish garden, putting ripe tomatoes into a rather large basket.

"Aw, mi amor, you are always so mean. I simply want to know what's bothering you. A penny for your thoughts?" He asked again, hopefully.

"Are you actually going to pay me? Because otherwise I can't think of any other reason why I should even be talking to you right now," Romano said flatly.

Spain simply laughed, dropping another red tomato into his basket. "You never change, do you?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

He put his free hand up defensively. "Nothing, nothing! I just mean your attitude hasn't changed much from when you were little."

"Shut the hell up," the Italian replied, annoyed. "It's not like you've changed a whole lot yourself."

Antonio sighed. "Si, you're right. I supposed I haven't changed much." He paused. "However you've changed a lot physically." Antonio raised an eyebrow, giving Lovino a playful once-over.

Heat rose to Lovino's face and spread like a wildfire. He clutched the tomato in his hand and chucked it angrily toward Spain's face. "Vaffanculo!" he shouted, completely read-faced.

Spain somehow managed to dodge the fast-flying fruit, chuckling as he did so. "It was only a joke Lovi, there's no need to get embarrassed about it."

"Sh-shut the hell up, and stop calling me by that dumbass nickname! My name is Lovino, idiot," the irate Italian mumbled, refusing to meet Antonio's brilliant green eyes.

"Si, si…but I did raise you, so I should be able to call you what I want. And besides, 'Lovi' is a cute nickname, much like the impossibly read face you're making right now. You look just like a tomato~." Antonio was answered with a harsh slap to the arm and a tomato shoved in his mouth.

"There. So I don't have to listen to you speak anymore." Romano roughly grabbed the basket out of Spain's hands and began walking in the opposite direction, almost violently plucking the plump fruit from their stems. He continued the monotonous task in angered silence, eventually putting a tomato in his own mouth, noming down the delicious food to mollify his temper.

Out of his line of sight, Antonio watched him with a small smile gracing his lips. He was quite used to these emotional outbursts, and often times intentionally instigated them, just to watch the Italian's sun-kissed cheeks turn lovely shades of crimson. He watched as Lovino licked the lingering tomato juice from his fingers, his normally hardened visage softening for a moment in pure bliss. His lips turning upward ever so slightly.

"It's rare to see you smile Lovino." The brunette's head whipped around, his dark eyes wide in shock. Antonio got up from the post he was leaning on, making his way over to his companion.

"Were you staring at me this entire time?" Romano asked defensively.

Spain shrugged, a big smile on his face. "I was just keeping an eye on you."

"I'm a grown man, I can take care of myself, fuckin' stalker."

The Spaniard's cheeks puffed out childishly. "So mean…"

Lovino, impossibly enough, hardened his gaze even more. "Suck it up, bastard."

The older man looked at him rather skeptically. "Well if that's how you feel about it…" Spain gingerly lifted the basket out of Romano's grasp and began walking toward the house. The latter protested, whinily reaching out for the stolen treasure and running after the retreating Spaniard.

Spain sat on the porch, the large basket set in his lap. By the time Romano had run the whole 5 feet to catch up with him, he was already out of breath.

"Fucker…you can't keep them all for yourself!" he panted, fists clenched at his side.

"If you want one, take one. " Spain gestured smugly to the fruit between his legs.

Angered crimson rose to Romano's face. "No fucking way."

"Then say you're sorry." The blushing Italian and the Spaniard proceeded to stare each other down, waiting for the other to give in.

Lovino looked longingly from his much desired snack to the man with the shit-eating grin plastered to his face and weighed his options. Finally he sighed, lowering his head a little. Romano looked to the side as if the off-distance tree had suddenly become very interesting. "Mi scusi."

Antonio smiled and got up from his seat. "Gracias," he said, placing a delicate kiss on the younger man's cheek, simultaneously dropping a ripe tomato into his outstretched hand.

However, the plump fruit quickly fell to the ground as the smaller nation's face turned an almost comical shade of red.

Antonio pouted childishly yet again. "Now Romano, that's the second tomato you've wasted today. You should know better than that," he stated sternly. When he received no answer, he sighed. "Ah, what am I going to do with you?"

A hand shot up to roughly grab the collar of Spain's shirt, pulling him downward. Pale pink lips crashed together with an almost painful force, parting not a moment later. Antonio stared in shock as he was unceremoniously shoved to the ground, Lovino hurriedly stocking off into the house. He let the loud slam of the door ease him into a stunned silence.

Light pink dusted his features, his hand shooting up to trace his mouth, which still tingled from the forceful contact. Realization clung to him, setting fire to the pit of his stomach. "Crap…Romano!"

-o-

Lovino slammed the door to his room, launching himself onto his bed. He buried his face into the pillow, which in turn soaked up the tears that rolled down his cheeks. The nation began mumbling to himself every swear word that came to mind (some in Italian, Spanish, French, even German). Choked sobs broke the long streams of cursing echoing about the room.

"I'm such an idiot," he managed to say, hugging the pillow closer to his face, almost to the point of suffocation.

"I beg to differ," a gentle voice said.

Every muscle in Lovino's body tensed at the sound of Antonio's words. _Shit, I didn't hear him open the door,_ he thought. He heard the melodic accent once more.

"Lovi, look at me."

Romano stubbornly remained still.

"Lovino, por favor."

He clutched the pillow tighter.

"Italy Romano Vargas, look your boss in the eye or so help me-" But before he could finish his sentence, a red-faced and teary-eyed Romano turned to stare into hypnotic green pools…or attempt to at least.

Antonio smiled down at him, reaching his hand down to lightly wipe away any stray tears. The distressed brunette was torn between flinching away or leaning into the much-wanted touch.

"Good. Now is there something you wanted to tell me?"

Romano's defiant gaze was betrayed by the tears that still fell from his eyes. "Like I'd actually tell you, bastard."

"Ah, but you already started to, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question, leaving the Italian to stare at him in dismay. Antonio simply smiled at him and stroked his chocolate brown hair. "Well I have something to tell you too." With that, Spain closed the distance between their lips, placing his hand on the back of Romano's head so he couldn't get away.

Lovino was ridged for a moment before melting into the kiss, wrapping his slender arms around Antonio's neck.

In the moments their mouths were connected, the two practically clawed at each other to draw the other nearer, eagerly seeking flesh's fiery touch. By the time they parted for air, Lovino was on Antonio's lap.

After taking literally two breaths of air, Romano claimed the Spaniard's lips again, causing him to hum in surprise. Spain fell backwards, Romano landing on top of him. Realizing their very compromising position, the younger nation let out a very manly squeal and attempted to jump off, but strong hands on his hips kept him firmly in place. "Where do you think you're going?" Antonio said rather huskily.

Lovino's eyes grew wide. "Ch-chigi…?"

The man beneath him gave him a very canine grin. "Usted es el mio."

-o-

"Hey Germany!" Feliciano loudly called to his German companion, holding a phone in his left hand.

Ludwig sighed, exasperated. "What is it Italy?"

"I tried calling Big Brother Spain to tell him we were coming over, but he didn't pick up the phone." The sing-songy Italian tilted his head in a vague, yet mildly concerned manor.

Germany sighed yet again. "Perhaps he's busy. We as countries have a lot of responsibilities to uphold after all," he said, hinting at the important lesson behind those words.

However, Italy being Italy, completely missed the undertones of his statement and said, "No I don't think so. Spain doesn't have much going on these days. He's probably out in his garden or something and didn't hear his phone!"

Ludwig mentally facepalmed and gave up. "Ja, I'm sure that's it."

"Yeah…though it's odd, fratello didn't pick up his phone either. Oh well! Lets go over there anyway!"

The German looked at Feliciano skeptically. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

The young nation nodded his head enthusiastically. "Si! It'll be a surprise!" And with that, Italy grabbed Germany's hand and dragged him out the door.


End file.
